Love Through Flame and Gunfire
by Terra Alchemist
Summary: Roy is being hunted down by the Homunculi and a plea for help to his First Lieutenant turns into something that should not have happened at all. Will Roy and Riza find a way to dodge Homunculi and military, or will they die together? AU, [ROYAI]
1. Caught? It's Just the First Chapter!

**Love Through Flame and Gun Fire**

**1: Caught? It's the First Chapter!**

"I'm telling you, Riza, it's not paranoia!" Roy hissed, letting Riza wrap her coat around him. He was shivering from the cold, his own wet clothes strewn on the hardwood floor of her small house. Riza just shook her head and gently removed his gloves from his hands. Roy tried to get over the fact that he was naked in Riza Hawkeye's house, wrapped in nothing but her military uniform. Let's not forget that he was suffering from cold chills and sneezing, and that she thought he was extremely paranoid. Anything else?

_No, there's nothing else, _he thought sourly. She brought a towel from her bathroom and handed it to him, then got another one, sat on her knees behind him, and started to dry his hair. He was surprised for a moment, no, more than a moment. He must have been surprised for a bit longer than a moment because she tapped his shoulder and asked if he was alright, besides the fact that he was freezing, of course.

He murmured a yes and buried his face in the towel. He realized, as the towel fibers were tickling his nose, that he didn't have anything to wear. She just continued to dry his hair and when that job was finished, whipped out a comb and started to brush it. She stopped halfway when he started to shiver again and called to her pup, Black Hayate. "Go get a blanket, Hayate. A big, thick one if you can." The pup yipped and scampered away, and Riza lit a fire in the fireplace. She put a hand on his forehead gently and his eyes slowly found their way to hers. This alarmed her, because he was usually much more alert and active, not sluggish. Then again, on most nights she assumed he was warm like other human beings, not freezing cold. He sneezed again and sniffed, and she resumed combing his hair. "That's the best I can do for right now... we'll just get your clothes dry and everything will be fine." Roy shook his head slowly and winced from the pain.

"It won't... they're after me, Riza..."

"Who?" she asked, thinking that the cold was causing him to become delusional. Black Hayate came back with the blanketand she took it from his mouth. "Good boy, Buraha." Roy's teeth chattered, even though he was sitting right next to the fire, and she wrapped the blanket around him as well. He put up no resistance and she leaned him against the wall. "Now who's after you?" She asked.

"Homunculi..."

"What?" She held his face in her hands and his cheeks reddened. Black Hayate whined and pawed at the blanket, climbing up into Roy's lap so he could lick his face. Roy's mouth twitched into a smile before resuming to chatter. "Have you eaten yet?" Riza asked, getting up from her position on her knees and heading for the kitchen. She stopped at the kitchen door and looked back for an answer. Roy shook his head, no he hadn't, and Riza went in. Roy reached a shivering hand out from the blanket and petted Black Hayate, who yipped and tried to lick it. Black Hayate climbed into his lap and curled up against him, and Roy felt slightly warmer. He leaned his head back into the wall and winced again. He had just been minding his own business and walking down the street, thinking about whether or not he should head for a bar and get a few drinks, when he had heard something behind him. At first he had thought it was nothing, perhaps a stray cat, and kept walking, but then he heard it again, and again. And again. This time when he turned there was a _thing_, it looked like a palm tree with a wide grin, hurtling straight for him. He backed up quickly and whipped his hands out of his pockets, hands in snapping position.

Then it turned into Maes.

He couldn't do anything. Even though his mind was screaming _Maes is dead, _his body refused to move, his heart refused to let him snap. His mind won after 'Maes' had come up behind him and stabbed him in his back. Maes would never have done that, and he turned and set the thing on fire, fighting for his life until... until...

His back throbbed and he cried out in pain, causing Black Hayate to jump and his mistress to bolt out of the kitchen. "What is it?" she asked. "M-my back..." he had remembered only when he remembered the incident on the street. Riza lifted him from against the wall and shooed Hayate from his lap. She laid him on his stomach on the floor and removed the uniform and blanket from his upper body, though somewhat hesitantly. He was still her superior, and for her to be 'undressing' him in this manner... _He has a nice body though... What? What am I thinking? Get those thoughts out of your head, Riza, he's your superior officer! Then why am I staring at him like this? Because he has a wound, that's why. Sure, just keep believing that. You know you just want to kiss him! _She shook her head vigorously and checked Roy's face, but his eyes were tightly shut and his teeth clenched. She worked faster, trying to locate what was ailing him. Then she saw it.

It was a horrible wound, like someone had stabbed him violently with a blunted object until it had broken the skin. She traced the edges of it and he moaned in pain. She came back to earth and told Hayate to fetch the medicine kit in the bathroom, which he obeyed immediately. _He's amazing... if I had a wound like this, I'd be crying... and he's just taking it, just lying there taking it so I won't panic, or overreact or... get... worried? Is he taking it so I won't worry about him? Is that what he's been doing all these years?_

She thought as she cleaned out the wound with alcohol and inspected it for any debris left behind. It wasn't very big, thank God, but it would definitely leave a scar, she thought regretfully, and she stopped again, reddening. Why regretfully? She wrapped the bandage around him and tied it off, letting Buraha cut it with his teeth. She looked at Roy's face again and found that he was asleep. Asleep or passed out, anyway. She stroked his soft black hair and hesitantly kissed his cheek, knowing that she shouldn't have. She shouldn't have, but she did. Why? She usually obeyed the rules, every single one. But this...

She touched his face and found that he was still cold, but just a little bit. He must have been hungry too... she went back to the kitchen, retrieving a bowl of spaghetti, even if it was leftovers, from the oven. She had left it in there so it could warm up a bit; she had remembered Maes Hughes saying once that he could almost swear that, if left by himself, Roy wouldn eat nothing but spaghetti. She had asked why and Maes shrugged. " 'Just one of Roy's little quirks,' " he had said, which had earned her another piece of information. " 'Roy really isn't as much of a womanizer as everyone thinks he is. He's a good guy, but he's had a rough life. Rumors don't help his situation either. ' " Maes's death had been another bump in Roy's 'rough life'. He had taken it the worst out of everyone, possibly just as bad as Gracia and Elysia. She realized that she knew very little about Roy other than Maes's occasional insights, and she couldn't count on Roy other childhood friend, Jean Havoc, to let much slip about Roy either. She wished she could just ask him.

Roy shivered under the blanket again and she asked Buraha to wake him up. He licked Roy's face and Roy cringed for a second before opening his eyes again slowly. "I thought you said you were hungry?" Riza asked, and Roy's stomach growled for confirmation. Roy eyed the food from the floor but seemed unable to get up from it. Riza sighed and picked up the fork. It looked like she'd have to spoon feed him too. Once she pulled him into a sitting position, he didn't seem eager to eat, even though she could tell he was hungry. After a few failed attempts she put her fists on her hips.

"Don't you want to eat?"

"You wouldn't understand," he replied, turning his head away from her again. She frowned. This must be the dreaded 'dignity and pride' she had heard other women bemoan about. Roy wouldn't let her feed him because he felt it beneath his dignity to be fed by someone else.

"I do understand, now open up!"

"No!"

"Your mother spoon fed you, didn't she? Now you can open up by yourself..." she cocked a gun and held it near his ear. "Or this can go off near your ear and possibly ricochet into your head, your choice."

Roy was being adamant. "Curse your stupid pride! Can't you just eat? You need it!"

Roy turned his face away again. "You're acting like a child, you know," she muttered darkly. Then an idea popped into her head. She put the fork down into the bowl again and he turned his face in her direction. She grabbed his face quickly and kissed him hard on the lips, and his eyes widened. She pulled away and was satisfied to see that his mouth had dropped open. She stuffed the forkful of food in his mouth and took it back out again, minus the food. He shot her a look. "Cheater," he muttered through the mouthful of food. She looked pleased with herself and got up to go to her room. She brought out several articles of his clothing, most of them thick and warm, and tossed them to him. "Where did these come from?" he asked.

"Whenever we go on missions together, you have a habit of putting your clothes in my suitcase and forgetting to take them out. These are from our last mission up north." She took the blanket off of his again, careful to make sure they covered his waist and below, and pulled the thick shirt over his head, appreciating his feeble attempts to get his arms through the sleeves. After that was done she gave him the pants and his boxers. "I'm not putting these on you," she said, whistling to Black Hayate to leave the room.

Roy pulled on the last articles of clothing with difficulty and Riza knocked on the door to see if he was ready. He said that he was and she came in again with Buraha. "Feeling better?" she asked, and he nodded slowly. She picked up the bowl again to resume feeding him and he gave her a sly smirk. "Only if I get another kiss." She raised her eyebrow at him and put the bowl down with a sigh, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. "And why should I feed you?"

"Because you care," Roy wheedled, giving her his most pleading look. It didn't work, so he gave her the look she could never resist. Puppy dog eyes. Riza showed no emotions outward, but she was just screaming _AWWWWWWWW! _on the inside. "Fine," she sighed. "Just a little one." She leaned forward to kiss him again, heart thundering in her chest, but this time he was ready. His arms circled her waist and pulled her closer, his mouth pressing against hers. She pulled away at first, but he kissed her neck and cheek and she leaned forward again, letting him push his tongue into her mouth. Before she realized what was happening she was on her back underneath him, Roy's hands feeling her body through the fabric of her shirt, still pushing hard into her mouth. His ears pickedup the sound of a gun cocking and he released his hold on her mouth, looking at her hands quickly. There was nothing there and he looked back at her face. She was red and gasping for air, her hands on his shoulders. He suddenly felt drained, like he couldn't work up enough energy to lift his eyelid, and, still straddling Riza, turned his head slightly to look behind him. "Get off of her." The man's voice thundered through the room, cold and full of indignation. In his hands, which was what Roy was taking the most interestin, was the nastiest looking high power rifle he had ever seen in his life. The man was blonde and tall, with piercing green eyes and a murderous frown on his face, though anything else would have suggested, other than the frown and the rifle, that he was talking to an acquaintance in the park. His eyes betrayed no emotion.

"Get off my daughter or I'll shoot you here and now."


	2. Conviction

**Love Through Flame and Gunfire**

**2: Conviction**

"I said, get off." Roy scanned the man a little more, being the observative person that he was. The man was a bit tall, tallish, about as tall as himself, a little narrower of shoulder, and all in all a bit thinner and smaller, like Riza. The thing that drew his eyes again, however, were his hands.

He was lame in his right hand. The left held the rifle with dead steadiness and supported it on the right, and Roy didn't doubt that the man could shoot him square between the eyes if Roy made him wait much longer. Riza gave him a miniscule nudge and Roy got off of her. Riza's father sighed and the gun lowered, but not enough to get Roy away without repercussion. If he bolted now, her father would most likely put a bullet in his leg.

Riza sat up on the floor. "Dad..." He crossed around to stand between Roy and Riza and looked down on Roy, a severe expression on his face. "Get up." Roy glared up at him, unwilling to let him intimidate, but got up slowly from the floor. Riza's father nodded towards the couch and Roy sat down slowly.

He sat down on the couch opposite and laid down the rifle, propping his chin on his one good hand. "Now tell me... what did you think you were doing?"

Roy bristled. What the hell did it look like? He refused to answer, setting his jaw firmly.

"I see... Can you tell me why you're here in the first place?"

"I was attacked. I was trying to head back to HQ but I passed by here first."

"Mm-hmm... and what prompted you to get on top of my daughter?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

"That's my business... sir."

"But my daughter happens to be my business as well, Mustang."

Roy jumped out of his seat, mind working into overdrive. "H-How, what?"

"It's obvious isn't it? More than obvious that you're a Mustang. I was acquainted with your father."

"Really." Roy shoulder twinged and he gritted his teeth. This was getting more irritating than it was worth. "Anything else you need to know, or already know, about me?" he hissed.

"Nothing, really, except there is one piece of information that you may want."

"Which is?"

"The military is right outside our door. You are wanted, Roy Mustang, for the murder of Major General Maes Hughes."

Roy jumped out of his seat, his hands clenched. "I-I! I couldn't, I didn't! Maes was my best friend, dammit!"

"I am only relaying what the Fuhrer has told me; the house is surrounded and it would be best if you went quietly. If you don't... they will open fire on the house," he seemed strained and Roy's face settled. So this is how it was going to be,eh? Framing him for the death of his best friend, perfect. "I'll go quietly..." he couldn't risk testing if they were serious about opening fire on the house. If he did, that test bullet might go straight through Riza's head for all he knew. He got up, legs shaking, supporting himself on the couch.

Her father put his hand on his shoulder. "My name is Jackory, by the way. Don't worry, I'll break you out as soon as I can; just don't incriminate yourself so badly that they slam you in the highest security."

"But why are you-"

"I owe your father a favor... a large favor, that and the fact that I don't believe a word the military says. It's done more wrong than right, I assure you."

Roy glanced over his shoulder at Riza, who looked like she wanted to run to him, but didn't. He nodded at her wearily and smiled, before turning, head down, and trudging outside. He was seized by the arms almost immediately and lifted off his feet, thrown into the back of a car, handcuffed, and driven away.

RRRRRRRRXRRRRRRRR

Days later he was convicted for the murder of Major General Maes Hughes, and he couldn't help but violently scream that he didn't do it, that he couldn't do it, that he would never murder his best friend, but all the evidence was against him. How could he deny that it was his gun that put the bullet in Maes's head? Sure it was his, but it was military standard issue, he had never used it since he had joined. He couldn't hit the broad side of a wall with a gun, guns just unnerved him too much, Maes knew that, Riza knew that, Jean knew that, Fuery, Breda, Falman, they all knew that... Even the dog, Black Hayate knew it, but none of them were deemed fit to testify for him, and he could only cry that he didn't do it, over and over and over again.

In front of his best friend's wife and child, who thought he was a murderer, he could only plea that he didn't do it. When Gracia Hughes finally looked him in the eyes, it was full of anguish and hatred, pain. He stopped struggling against the men who were taking him away, and said one last time, "Gracia, I didn't do it."

Then he was thrown straight into a cell to await execution in six months. Half a year, and he would be dead, just like Maes.

A month passed, one month in jail, five left to live, and he was once again staring at the picture in his pocketwatch, his State Alchemist pocketwatch, of a picture of Maes and himself as young children. Those had been the best days of his life, when there was nothing to worry about, no bills to pay, no worries. There had been no such thing as being wanted for the murder of your best friend back then. Sometimes he wished he were a child again. What the hell was growing up worth? Being thrown in jail for something you didn't do?

The wooden door outside of his cell door rattled; sounded like he had a visitor. He didn't look up; he didn't care anymore. He didn't bother to read mail anymore, most of them were hate-filled anyway, except for the ones from Riza. He got one every day from Riza, they were what kept his sanity with him, just a glimmer of hope that he might be out of this place and back with her. He looked back at the picture, flipped it over to look at another. Maes again, both of them, on their sixteenth birthday, well, Roy's sixteenth birthday. Maes's birthday had been three days before.

Footsteps stopped in front of his cell and he looked towards the bottom. A woman's shoe, and a little one. It must be Gracia and Elysia; he decided that he didn't want to talk. It would probably be much less painful for him that way. He slumped a little against the block of stone that was supposedly his bed and risked a glance upwards, then looked away. He didn't even have a window, he refused to eat nowadays, Gracia could tell because there was still a tray of food near the cell door. It hadn't been touched.

"I wish I'd just die of a heart attack or something; then maybe people could spit on my grave instead of on me," Roy said, staring adamantly at the wall. "Did you come to spit on me as well?" he asked, still staring at the spot on the wall. In truth, no one had come to spit on him, no one was allowed inside to spit on him. His subordinates had come to visit, once every week, sometimes Havoc would come twice or three times a week. Riza came whenever the guard would let her in, usually bringing food and a kiss or two. God that was awkward, kissing a woman through bars.

Gracia didn't say anything, just looked at the pocketwatch in his hand. "Is that..."

"It's Maes. Maes and I... on our sixteenth birthday." He flipped. "Maes and I when we entered the military, when we got so drunk together we threw up for hours the day afterwards, Maes trying to set me up on a date, Maes on his wedding day," Tears clouded his eyes as he spoke and he let them roll down his cheeks before scrubbing them away quickly. "Maes's funeral... and in five months, I'll be dead just like him, I'll get to see Maes again, maybe. I have five months to live, and I wanted to do so much more with my life..." his thoughts went to Riza.

"I wanted to have a family... that's out the window, no chance of that happening now, I can't even... I can't even... I can never propose to Riza now, never show her how much I love her... not now, not ever, because I'll be dead in five months." he looked up at Gracia. "Are you happy now? At least... at least Maes died having done everything he wanted in life, I... I don't get that kind of mercy... I'm a failure! I couldn't protect Maes, I can't have a family, I can't do anything, nothing but rot away in this cell waiting to die." Gracia said nothing throughout his whole heart-pouring speech.

"They won't let Riza in anymore... if you see her... tell herI love her... that... I'd propose if I could, but there's no way now. Tell her I'm sorry..." He wasn't willing to say any more and he looked away as Gracia's footsteps faded away. He covered his face with one hand and gritted his teeth, trying to will himself not to cry, but he gave up in the end.

There was no one to see him break down anyway and his watch lay open on the floor, opened to a picture of himself and Maes, onearm around each other's shoulders, grinning into the camera.


	3. Visits

**Love Through Flame and Gunfire**

**Chapter 3: Visits**

Roy was increasingly haggard over the course of the next month; Visits from Riza had been stopped completely, Jean's visits only once a week, his other subordinates limited to once every two weeks. Jean's visits were particularly supportive, them being the only two out of the terrible threesome of their childhood days to be alive. Soon, Roy thought darkly, sadly, Jean would be the only one left. He would be leaving one of his closest friends all alone.

Jean's visits allowed Roy to forget where he was, if only for a little while. It was a mercy and a curse all in one. He was desperate, no, more than desperate, to escape from his dirty little hovel, but when he was landed back in the real world, and he realized where he was after Jean left, it was enough to make a grown man cry. And it did.

Even his parents visits were limited, his mother's more than his father's. Roy thought that maybe his mother just couldn't take the sight of him like this, not that he blamed her. It was quite overwhelming, even for his father. His father would visit for hours at a time, just to sit with him or talk, but this time, Roy hada burning question.

"What favor did Jackory Hawkeye owe you?" he asked.

His father looked up at him sharply, his dark eyes locking with his. "Jackory Hawkeye owes me no favor. If there is any favor, I have one to him that I can never hope to repay."

"Then what is it?" Roy queried.

"...I... it was during the early days of both our military careers, Jack and I were on a search and stealth operation. We were looking for a lost operative, your mother." Roy was quiet.

"You were looking for Mom?"

His father nodded slowly. "Yes. I didn't know that Jack had been deployed for the same mission, I had no idea. I was sent by myself, Jack was sent with the woman who later became his wife. I was walking along, trying to keep hidden, and I saw him carrying her. She was bound and gagged, and I didn't know what I was thinking...

"I saw the uniform, but I still pulled the trigger... and I hit him."

"Where?" Roy breathed.

"In his hand... I was the one that lamed him in his firing hand for life... I don't know why, I saw the uniform, but I just saw him, and I..." he looked down at his hands. "I think it was jealousy that pulled the trigger, I just didn't think."

"Were you court martialed?"

"I was. It was deemed accidental and I was pardoned, but Jackory was dismissed from the military; we lost one of the best marksmen at that moment. He couldn't fire a gun anymore, what use was he? We've had... a bit of a grudge against each other since then."

So that was it. That white-hot anger in Jackory Hawkeye's eyes that had been concealed in the blink of an eye, the anger that had made Roy shiver inside and feel like all the life was being sucked out of him, that he was small and insignificant, a bug about to be crushed. But then... why would he help now?

"I can never apologize for what I did to him. What good would it do?"

"But he can shoot with his left..."

"They didn't accept him, even when he shot bullseyes into exactly one hundred targets with one hundred bullets. It wasn't enough, he had to be able to use the other hand, and he couldn't. I destroyed his career as soon as the bullet left the gun."

"You're feeling guilty, then?"

"Yes. But then... you wouldn't have been born if they'd court-martialed me, so perhaps it's better for you, if not my consiensce, that I was not court-martialed."

"Is it better, Father? Look at me, I'll be dead in four months anyhow. Looking back, it's almost as if my life wasn't worth living."

"Don't say that, Son."

"But it isn't."

"I'm trying to find evidence that might help you."

"They wouldn't let it go to trial. You're a relative and therefore deemed unfit to testify for the accused," Roy intoned.

"... I know, but I have to try, Roy. Maes's father and I... are on rocky grounds, though we've been the best of friends for years. I guess my life is finally unraveling," he murmured, fingers rubbing his temples. His hair was streaked with white around his temples, Roy noted. The last time he had seen his father, which had been roughly two months before at the hearing, there had not been any white.

"Along with mine," Roy muttered. "Even Mr.Hughes believes I did it?"

"The evidence is against you. As your parents, it's the expected reaction from the public to stand with you, to believe you didn't do it. There are very few other than family and trusted friends that believe you didn't do it."

"How's Mom?" Roy asked quietly.

"She's..." his father hesitated. "She's getting sicker every single day... I don't know what's happening..."

"It's because of me," Roy choked out. "She's dying because she grieving already, grieving that I'll be dead! She's dying because of me! God, I am truly a murderer!"

His father stood by the cell, hands clenched on the bars. "Stop that, Roy! You're a Mustang, you're a grown man, now get up, hold your head high, and act like one for God's sake!"

"There is no God, Father, I don't believe in that anymore. Not now, not now. I stopped after I killed all those people in Ishbal, all those women and children, defenseless, all of them, I stopped after Maes died, and I've definitely stopped now that they've convicted me for murdering my best friend. If there's anything I can rely on..." he raised his hands and stood up slowly. "It's these two hands, and I will find a way out of this, even if I have to die to clear my own name!"

His father nodded. "That's my boy... but... there's one more thing you should believe in... you have to trust in and believe in us, your family and friends." There was a glint in his father's eyes. "I for one am not so willing to let my only son die for a murder he did not commit. No Mustang is going to be disgraced for the unjust conviction of a crime, and I'll make sure of that, even if I... have to team up with Jackory to do it."

* * *

Somehow, that didn't make him feel much better. Okay, maybe a little, but still. 

"I wish I could see Riza, Jean."

Jean's cigarette slipped down in his mouth a little. "Ahhh, so you're finally admitting it, eh?"

Roy shot him a look. "Wish I had a window, too."

"Oh come on... Riza got Gracia's message... in the middle of the office. Just broke down, right there, and Fuery and I helped her get home. She hasn't come to work much since then, and we've even seen her old man hanging around too. Talking to your old man, which certainly isn't something you see every day. Looked like a heated discussion, but it didn't come to blows, so I suppose that's good."

Roy nodded distractedly. Riza had broken down? It was worse than he had been expecting.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Well... she's okay, I think, but like I said, we haven't seen her for a while."

Roy hmmed and nodded, and Jean looked at him hesitantly.

"Have you... uh... done anything with her?"

Roy's head came up quickly. "What?"

"Have you... you know..."

Roy finally realized where Jean was heading and laughed. "No, no I haven't... I wish though, damn I wish..."

Jean breathed out slowly, releaved. "That's good... we were thinking... phew... but listen." He leaned on his elbows.

"I'm gonna bail you out too; I managed to get in on what the old men are doing, and it's a pretty good plan."

"When am I going to be bailed out then, Jean?"

"Next month, just wait one more month, and you're free."

Roy nodded and looked at the pocketwatch again. "I'll avenge Maes... and clear my name... to do those two things I'm willing to do... anything, anything at all. Then I'll be back with Riza... Tell her I'll be with her soon, Jean, very soon."


	4. Jailbreak

**_Love Through Flame and Gunfire_**

**_Chapter 4: Jailbreak_**

One more month, one more damn month. Roy was pacing in his cell, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Damn, would they never come to get him out?

There was a scuffling outside, a rather loud 'UGH!' and a thud on the floor, and he looked up quickly, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. Speak of the devil. Which devil, though, he was soon tofind out, as the wooden door swung open with much bravado and a long-haired young man jumped in.

"Ta-da! Now who said lock picking and head bashing would get me nowhere?"

Roy groaned, inwardly and externally. "Loki..."

"Yup, Loki Mustang, at your service!" He pulled a ring of picks, hairpins, even a fountain pen or two, from his pocket, and selected a hairpin, comparing it to the size of the lock on Roy's cell. He inserted the pin and twiddled it around, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. "You owe me big time for this one, Brother," he sang, grinning up at Roy. Roy crossed his arms over his chest. "Sure, whatever. What do you want this time, another ring for your picks?"

"Actually I was thinking something along the lines of a new pair of boots, these are getting really worn..." He lifted up a foot for examination and grinned again.

"The sole's nearly fallen off on it."

"You couldn't just say you did it out of brotherly love, could you?"

"No way. Well, I could, but I really need a new pair of boots."

Roy gave him a murderous look.

"Aw, don't look at me like that, Big Brother, you know I hate it when you do. I was just kidding anyways..."

"You're lucky you're younger than me, Loki, very lucky."

"Yeah yeah, sure sure. I'm only like three seconds younger anyways," Loki said, still twiddling the lock, "Y'know, you've finally got a hot girlfriend, I think she's a keeper."

Roy put his hands on the bars. "What!" he practically screamed at his younger brother and Loki winced. "Owwww... you don't have to yell so loud, you know... I was just stating the truth."

"You'd better be..." Roy grumbled.

"Why would I be interested anyway? I don't want to get married to a woman who'll kill me soon as look at me!"

"I don't think you want to get married at all."

"I could say the same for you, you _old _womanizer!"

"I'm not _old!_"

"Sure you aren't. A beard definitely makes you look older, but I think the moustache is worth keeping." Loki pointed out. Roy stroked at his hair irritibly. He had managed to figure out how to burn off unwanted hairs on his face every day, but he didn't want to risk a mishap on his lip, as he sometimes did, and he had forgotten to... burn that morning.

He really hated his little brother. Well, brotherly hate, anyway.

"So who put you up to it? Dad?"

"Nah, it was Mom actually, and I had half a mind to do it anyways, once I heard what happened. Your girlfriend bawls her eyes out almost every day."

Roy felt a sting of jealousy. "How would you know that?"

"How? They've all been underground in the mansion, of course. It's like they're preparing for a war down there, not to mention that Dad and old man Hawkeye won't even look eye to eye, let alone be in the same room together. It's actually really scary... what with Dad being the hothead that he is, things are bound to get out of hand soon. Your buddy Jean is right outside, stalling the guards with some friendly, relevant conversation. He's pretty good too, I mean, it'll look like he just happened to be there when I bust you out."

The lock finally sprang open and Loki stepped back, opening the door with a flourish. "Now you're free, Roy, now hurry up!" Loki made sure any loose articles of his clothing were tied up and secure, and zipped up his coat. He pulled out a strong leather cord with a piece of metal on the end of it, transmutation circles inscribed all over the handle. He pressed his fingers to one of the circles and held it upwards, and the cord shot forward as the metal bit changed into a hook, latching onto the ceiling. There was a latticed iron grate in the ceiling, which Roy judged to be just big enough for the two of them to fit in together simultaneously.

At first, it didn't look like they would, what with the two of them being of the exact same height and stature, even if Locke was a bit more lean than he was. Loki grabbed his brother's belt with one hand and Roy put his arm around Loki's shoulders. "What now?" he asked, and Loki's brow furrowed. "Wait for it, Roy. There was a shot from the direction of the shooting range, then two more in quick succession, and Loki thumbed the circle again, causing the cord to retract quickly until they were faced with the iron grate.

"See if you can't melt those grate edges, Roy."

Loki fished a bit of chalk out of his pockets and two stones, and he held them patiently while Roy scribbled circles onto the grate edges. He placed his fingers against the top two circles on either side of the grate. "Strike them together, Loki." Loki did as he was told and the metal melted under Roy's fingers. He moved on to the next two and did the same, and Locke lowered the grate to the ground.

"Okay, this is the tough part."

"Tough part?" Roy asked.

"Well, we have to get out of here without being shot, which happens to be a good trait of mine, but I'm not so good at cover jobs."

"So I run and you cover from behind?"

"Yep, and Jean will... 'accidentally' fire on other officers. It's a risky business, altogether."

"And Father?"

"I don't know, but I think they'll have a distraction or have the basement open to us."

"Alright... I'll go on two, you come on three... 1... 2..." his brother threw him up and out of the prison and Roy dashed along the top of the building. It was pretty dark out, almost sunset, which was good enough cover if he made it out of the first stretch. "3!" he called, and Loki vaulted out after him, a dark color shifting cloak behind him. He caught up with Roy and covered them both with the cloak as guards opened fire, and Roy heard a cry as Jean fired at an officer dangerously close to them. It would be an 'accidental shot' later.

A bullet broke the roof in front of them and Loki kept one hand on his back, pushing him forward, and it occured to Roy that he must be a burden on his brother. "Meet me back at the mansion," he hissed, and tripped Loki. Loki's eyes widened in surprise and his mouth opened as he fell onto his face. Roy stopped briefly and looked around, then opted to bolt towards the shooting grounds. He threw himself off of the building and into the bushes, landing with a thud and a backache, before struggling up on all fours and crawling through the undergrowth.

"Brother!" Loki called, and Roy gritted his teeth. "Take care of yourself!" Roy shouted. "Get away from here, I'll be fine!" It was a risk to shout, and it almost proved fatal as a bullet buried itself in a tree trunk next to his head. He cursed softly and stayed in that position just long enough to see Loki look out of the corner of his eye at him, dodge a flurry of bullets, and jump down and out of sight, leading the military on a merry goose chase after him.

Survival was of the essence now; now he would see how sixteen years of military training had benefited him. He felt horrible though, Gracia would definitely fix it in her mind that he had killed Maes. He had to make it up to her, somehow. Another bullet whizzed in his general direction and Roy hurtled forward on all fours, aiming for the storage rooms. If his possessions were kept anywhere, it would be in storage. He had to get ahold of his gloves and the rest of his personal items, especially, though stupid as it seemed, the pocketwatch that Maes had given him for his last birthday, his twenty-ninth.

God but it was a stupid reason to risk his life, but he had to do it. He wouldn't blame Riza if she decided to kill him for putting himself in such danger over a watch, but there was something else there too... Something that was just as important to him as Maes's watch. He pressed his back against the cold stone wall of the storage compound, dismayed to find a lock there. He wished he hadn't told Loki to ditch him now, and the only things that were in his pockets were... He fumbled around in his pockets, then at his belt, and his fingers touched cold steel.

A dagger?

He pulled it out and an urge to laugh rose in his throat. What he had pulled out of his belt, what Loki had stuck in his belt, was a fork.Just perfect, absolutely ingenious. And it wasn't sarcasm that he felt, either. He used the other end of it to scratch a circle into the ground and stuck the pronged end into the ground in the middle of it, pressed his hands against it, and transmuted. Now he had a fairly good imitation of Loki's all-purpose lock-pick, and he shoved it into the lock, jiggling it around in the lock just as Loki had taught him when they had been young boys.

The padlock clicked off and fell to the ground with a dusty thud and he picked it up, heading inside. He really hoped nobody got the idea to shoot in here. That was his thought as he stared at all the ammunition stored inside. Dammit, he would be Mustang Flambe so fast... He had to hurry. He rummaged around in a large box, it was large enough to hold the possesions he had had on him when he was arrested, and the others were either too small or too big. He was rewarded as his fingers brushed his gloves, and he sighed with relief. There was his uniform, the clothes he had been wearing that day, which he opted to change into, and best of all, Maes's prized watch. He pocketed it and a small velvet box, putting his State Alchemist watch into another pocket, Jean's lighter into a front pocket (he had borrowed it on one of Jean's many visits), and turned to leave.

He cursed again and quickly flattened himself against another wall; they were all outside the door, dammit. His mind was working at a crazy pace; what could he do now without furthering his criminal record? He looked at the window, and then at some ammunition in a box next to him, and an idea worked into his mind.

Jean Havoc bit his nails, he had given Roy as much time as possible, but he could not delay them searching the ammunitions storage any longer, and he cringed. He hoped that Roy had had the sense to look out the back window.

Roy finished his transmutation, set the box on top of it, and rolled it into the doorway. He burned the string on it and his wooden catapult threw the box into the middle of the group and he snapped, exploding it right over them. Black smoke descended on them and the scene turned to utter chaos, with soldiers milling about, unable to see. Then Roy heard a puttering sound and he glanced out the back window and smacked himself on the head. Why had he not just looked out there? Jean's motorcycle was sitting in the back, the keys conveniantly still in the ignition. Clever Jean, what clever planning indeed. He threw himself out of the back window and clambered onto the motorcycle, roaring away towards the dirt roads to the outskirts of East City.

He hoped he could get to the mansion without further delay, and hoped his brother had gotten away safely as well.

* * *

Wheeee... fourth chapter already, and even I'm starting to feel the tension in the air. I swear, when I write these things it feels as if the character's are talking back and forth to each other, like I have no part in the making of the story at all. It's so cooooool... And if anybody noticed, these two characters are the origin of my e-mail address, Roy and Loki, royloki, heheheehe... 

-T A


	5. Clara

**_Love Through Flame and Gunfire_**

**_Chapter 5: Clara_**

Roy burst through the front door of the mansion after parking Havoc's cycle in the garage. His head swung around, trying to find everyone else, but he saw nothing.

"Father? Mom?"

He spun around, still scanning the room, and cursed. Where could they be? He bolted up the stairs, taking them three at a time, his hand gripping the wooden banister tightly as his footsteps thudded loudly in his ears from the impact of boots on marble. It was dark, oh so dark, and he didn't like it. It was never dark in his mansion, there were usually lights on in at least a couple of floors, especially around the holidays, but it seemed that all his lights had been turned off. The military must have searched his house, and he stifled a groan. How much would they have taken and confiscated, or worse, how much would they learn about...

He got up to the seventh floor, puffing slightly, his steps thudding heavily on the hardwood floors. "Mom?"

Loki had said they'd be here, but where were they? Had the military taken them away? All of them? His thoughts went to Riza again and his throat lumped; he shouldn't think about that, not now.

He continued up the stairs to the fourteenth floor, the diamond floor. It was a second sun for the people of Central City, reflecting the sun from the East, but it was quite beautiful for a sunset view. He looked out onto the road, maybe they were still running, or something... There was a hiss and something swooped down from the corner, striking him and laying him out on the floor. "Are you stupid? Do you know how easy it is to see you if the sun is reflecting towards Central?" Loki hissed, gesturing towards the doors.

"Hurry up and get down to the thirteenth floor." He seemed to be holding a phone in his hand, and talking into it.

"No no, don't worry about me, I'm fine Clara... Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can, bye. What am I doing? Rescue missions, you know, I might get in a steal or two, but it all depends. I'll bring you back something nice, I assure you." He hung up the phone as Roy managed to crawl over to the door. He should have thought of it; he had been born and raised here, how could he have forgotten that the fourteenth floor was as easy to see in to as it was to see out?

"Who's Clara?" he asked, getting up onto his feet on the stairs. Loki swept after him, passing him and going down the stairs. "An acquaintance," was all he said. Roy snorted. Acquaintance his ass; Loki would never pass up the chance to hit on a woman, seeing as Roy got most of them anyway. They had quickly found that Roy's suave and charming demeanor was much more desirable than Loki's witty and playful personality, though both brothers could switch when they wanted to, when they had to.

Loki led him back down to the ground floor, removed a couple of marble slabs, and pressed his hands to a giant circle. It glowed momentarily and the stone underneath formed a door. He pulled it up and gestured. "You first." Roy heeded and jumped down; he and Loki had hidden there many times from their parents whenever they had done something wrong, though their parents had humored them and pretended not to know about the secret basement.

Loki followed him down and sealed the ground and the marble again by placing his hands on the circle by the door, and Roy continued onwards, loosening the collar from his neck. It was hot down here, but hotter deeper in, so it was better to loosen clothing now before going much farther in.

The Mustang Mansion, as it was widely known, concealed a little known geographical problem; an active volcano large and powerful enough to destroy Amestris in one eruption. It was a chilling thought, sure, but that was what Mustangs were around for, to keep the volcano in check and remove the heat from any eruptions, making the slide one of cold magma. It was then transmuted to become part of the house, but the volcano only erupted once every hundred years or so, nothing to worry about.

But damn it was hot. The basement was used as an ideal training place for children. If you were going to play with fire, you had to learn that it burned. He looked out of the corner of his eye atLoki and Loki nodded, they were down here alright. Roy quickened his pace and rounded the corner. It was dark down here, being so far underground, but there was light as he progressed farther and farther in.

Finally he was there, and it was discovered that the light was produced from controlled flowing lava. His father had transmuted diamond pipes that lit the main rooms, and he saw Riza seated on a bed with her pup, Black Hayate, in her nightclothes. Jean was there as well, brooding, seated on another bed with his chin resting on arched fingers. Riza had her back to him, combing out her long hair, and Roy suddenly had an aching feeling. Loki gave him a nudge towards Riza, and mouthed, 'straighten up', before going over to another phone and dialing. Roy looked down at himself and grimaced; riding a motorcycle on soft dirt roads wasn't the best way to travel. Oh well... He drew a circle out of the mud on his clothes and transmuted, the dirt falling off in little clumps, rendering him as good as new. He sat down on the bed Riza was seated on and she gave a start, turning her head sharply, her eyes wide. He gave her a smile and she calmed down, lowering her raised brush, and threw her arms around him.

"I'm so glad you're alright..." she whispered, and he said nothing, just hugged her as tightly as he could. There were two polite coughs from behind and they turned their heads to look at the two uncomfortable fathers who were standing two yards apart. "That's enough you two..." they said in unison, then stopped and glared at each other. Jackory pointed to another room and Roy's father, Leroy, to another. Roy and Riza sighed and Roy kissed her cheek gently, shrugging apologetically, then wincing at the pain in his back. It seemed as if that was on fire as well, having been under so much strain. He'd get his mother to take alook at it later. Loki was looking at himself in a mirror, combing his hair back and frowning at himself.

"What's up with you?" he asked, and Loki looked over his shoulder.

"I'm going back into the military, but this time I'm going in disguise."

"What kind of disguise?"

"As Jean Havoc, of course," Loki said, pointing to a box. "Hand me that,will you?"

Roy gave it to him, opening the box as Loki poured something into his hair and rubbed it in. He had already gotten Havoc's hairstyle down. He took out the two lenses in the box and squinted, put them in his eyes, and blinked a few times as the color took effect in his hair. He turned around and put a fake cigarette in the corner of his mouth, adopting a procrastinating look to his face. "How do I look, Brother?"

"Not bad... you look just like Jean, now see if you can fix the voice, and the posture."

Loki cougheda few times and adopted a laid back posture, hands in his pockets. "How's this?" he asked, and Roy gave him the thumbs-up. "The only problem is that your face is just a tiny bit different, and the height doesn't match," Roy pointed out. Loki shrugged. "Height can be fixed with boots, but the face... well, I look so much like him they'll just think it's a trick of the light. People see what they want to see."

Loki picked up the phone again. "Another hospital? Again? God, that must've been one hell of asteal, are you alright? No bullet holes or anything?" It seemed to be genuine concern, Roy mused.

"I know, I know, I shouldn't talk... but besides all that, I'd promise I'd bring my lovely Clara something when I return, remember. Oh don't give me that pet name, you know I hate it. I know, I know, I'll be back as soon as possible, Clara, yes... You want to check _what?"_ Loki looked incredulous on this side of the phone.

"B-But we haven't... ohhhh, you mean _after... _you really want it? I mean, after that, it won't be so easy to steal anymore... Of course I'll be there to get you out of nasty spots, of course. I know where we're meeting, I'll be there, Clara. Above the storage containment, see, I remembered. I'll be in disguise though, I'll be a tall blonde, blue-eyed, smoking Second Lieutenant. I'll be up there though, when I get what I need, then we'll break for it. Okay? Bye."

He finally hung up the phone and Roy's eyebrow raised. "Well?"

"Just my mission partner," Loki said quickly, and Roy shook his head.

"You got a girl, didn't you, Loki?" Roy asked teasingly, putting his arm around his brother's shoulders. Loki grunted.

"Maybe I did, so what?"

"Finally..."

"What do you mean, 'finally'? Just because you attracted them all when we were kids doesn't mean they'll all go to you from every corner of Amestris now!"

Roy sighed. "You need to check my mailbox at work then."

Loki's jaw dropped. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Roy shook his head and Loki cursed. "Damn you, Roy. I don't get it, how do females fall for arrogant bastards like you?"

Roy tightened his grip on Loki's neck. "Who's an arrogant bastard!" he hissed.

"You are!" Loki grumbled. "Nobody likes nice guys anymore."

"Aw, hey... I can be nice when I want to, like around Riza!"

Loki nodded. "I say settle down with her, I doubt you'll find anyone nicer... Well, I must be off, I shouldn't keep Clara waiting too long."

He waved to Jean, who also gave him a grin and a thumbs up, before shrugging on a military uniform and striding out.

At Eastern HQ, Loki/Jean found out that all measures to find them had not gone well, even though there was a full sweep of the Mansion. Loki's anger raged when he found out that they had taken an old photo album full of pictures and were examining them for everyone's social benefit, laughing and joking. He stood up and took them, announcing that it was not needed and that it should probably be returned to the house.

After finding out what he needed to know, he packed Jean's things into a bag, hoisted it around his shoulder, and headed for storage. He opened the door with the key Jean had given him and climbed the stairs to the top of the building, where a blonde woman was waiting for him.

"Well well, what have we here?" Loki joked, and the woman turned, smiling at him.

"So it is a good disguise; you've gotten better, I guess you don't need my help anymore."

"Au contraire, I think I do need your help. I can only disguise myself as immediate persons around me, not as much else."

"Ah, so the King of Thieves has a weakness."

"Disguises and a beautiful Psiren are all the weaknesses I have," he murmured, stepping closer to her. There was a mask on her face, but he knew who she was just by the sound of her voice, the way she held herself, the way she walked.

"Now now, King, no funny business up here..." she laughed, placing her hand on his chest. He looked down at her.

"Why can't you just say my name, instead of calling me King?"

"Because it irritates you, King, and it's cute when you're irritated."

Loki sighed and kissed her cheek. "That's all you'll get from me if you call me King."

Psiren's eyes glinted and she pressed herself closer to him. "Have it your way, then, Loki."

"Much better," he said, before bending slightly to kiss her lips. They kissed for a little while before pulling apart, and Psiren traced his shoulder gently. "You still have the circle?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Do you really think I'll give up thieving so easily? No matter how much they cry and scream, my parents can't get me to think differently. And you, I see you still have yours..." He pulled down the zipper on her jacket and traced the circle on her chest.

"Are you ready to come with me yet?" she asked, her hand holding his wrist. He shook his head slowly, sadly. "Not yet, I'm afraid. I still have work to do. Why not come with me? Nobody would find us, somewhere...private." She seemed to think about it for a second before shaking her head as well and moving forward again to nuzzle his cheek.

"I said I'd rob the bank again at dawn, and I can't stay with you and make it back on time. You know how you like to... draw things out." Loki snorted. "You can't talk."

She said nothing, only sighed and laid her head against his chest.

"You'll come with me after that?" he asked, looking into her blue eyes. She nodded and reached up to finger his hair. "It's turning black again, King, and the lenses are slipping." He cursed softly and took the lenses out of his eyes, pocketing them, and took something else out of his pocket, an emerald ring. She gasped and took it from him, cradling it against her chest; she loved emeralds. "That's something pretty, now how about something helpful..." he reached into his pocket again and retrieved a pack of playing cards, identical to Psiren's old ones.

"I heard your last deck got beat up, so I stole you another one." She looked downcast. "I'm sorry the last one ripped up..." He sighed and stroked some hair out of her face. "Don't worry about it, it didn't kill me to get another." He kissed her forehead and turned. "Keep yourself safe, Clara." She nodded and said, "You keep yourself safe as well, Loki."

He nodded and grinned, then dropped down from the builing onto Havoc's cycle and rode away. She frowned and pressed her hands against her stomach, blue eyes straining to watch him ride into the distance.

* * *

Dun dun dun! I was wondering if I'd ever get to use Psiren in a fic, and here she is!

By the way, Loki's name comes from Loki, if I'm not mistaken, the Norse God of Mischief. Loki sounds like a mischevious guy, doesn't he?

- T A


	6. Mustang vs Hawkeye: Blood Feud

**_Love Through Flame and Gunfire_**

**_Chapter 6: Mustang Vs. Hawkeye_**

Riza lay on her stomach on her bed with her pup, Black Hayate, stroking his fur gently. Hayate opened one eye drowsily, yipped, and closed it again as Jackory came in, passed through, and left. His room was next to Riza's, Leroy Mustang's being next to Jackory's, with Roy's room on the far end. The idea was that neither one of them could get through to the other without passing both parents' bedrooms, rendering it impossible to get through. Loki's bedroom was next to Roy's, even though he was hardly ever there. He going in the guise of Havoc every day to ring in any details on their whereabouts, and it was going well. The military had no clue as to where they'd disappeared to.

Roy was on his stomach as well, his shirt thrown off to the side, when his mother came in. She was small and petite, and a bit quiet, totally at odds with Roy's father who was tall and robust, an enthusiast at all things and not one to keep quiet, an all around hothead; his tendency to act rashly without thought was a large streak that he had passed to his sons. Roy and Loki, as a result, were tall, if not as muscular, more leanly built and better suited for speed than for a hands on fight, though they certainly weren't lacking in that category either.

Ilia examined the wound on his back and sighed; it didn't look good, and she wasn't feeling all that great either. She had just finished healing it, and Roy sat up, getting up to retrieve his shirt from the floor. His mother was watching him and he looked at her. "What's wrong, Mom?"

"Your father is fighting with Jackory again."

"Again? That'll be the eleventh time this month!"

"Twelfth, actually..."

"Oh... I'll see if I can stop them. You want to come, Mom?"

She nodded and followed, marveling, as she often did, at how tall he was. It hadn't seemed that long ago when she was still carrying him around on her hip and he was whining for her attention, along with his brother. She frowned and grabbed Roy's arm, stopping short of Leroy's door.

"Roy's done nothing with her, I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Yes, just like you didn't know what I was talking about when you went cavorting with my sister!"

"What I've done can't reflect what Roy does, and what's past is past-"

"Just face it, Mustang, you're entire family is nothing but a bunch of good for nothing womanizers and hopeless drunks!"

"Why you-"

There was a cock of a gun and Roy and his mother burst into the room to see Riza burst in through the other end. "Dad!" she cried, and Jackory ignored her, his eyes focused solely on Leroy. Leroy was livid with rage,his fingers gloved and in snapping position, staring at the other man with an intensity that Roy had never seen before in his father's eyes.

"Take it back," he seethed.

"Why should I?"

"Because it's not true, and I will not allow insult to my family. You can insult me, but you _will not_ degrade my family line."

"Idiots!" Roy cursed, and got in between them. "Stop it! Stop it, what are you doing?"

Leroy's eyes had narrowed dangerously. "Get out of my way, Son."

"Are you crazy, you-"

"Get out of my way! If Hawkeye wants it settled this way, in front of his own daughter and in front of my family, then so be it!"

The gun was still loaded and pointed, and Roy spun around helplessly to find himself staring into the barrel of a gun. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

Riza had cocked a gun as well and went to stand beside Roy. She stood in front of her father, her head leaned against the barrel of the gun. "If you want to shoot, go ahead, but it will have to go through me, first." Jackory's eyes widened. "Elizabeth, get out of the-"

"No, I won't!"

"Elizabeth..."

"Why do you have to do this? He didn't do anything to you, Roy didn't do anything to you, or to me, or to anybody! Mom wouldn't have wanted you to do this, she wouldn't..."

"Don't talk to me about what your mother would want, Elizabeth," Jackory said, gritting his teeth. So that was it, Roy thought, this was about Riza's mother, that was his weak spot.

"If he...If he... he as good as killed her!" Jackory cried, and Leroy's eyes widened as well. "Me? How could I have killed her, you little-"

"Leroy!" Ilia cried, holding onto his arm, "Stop it!"

"How could he have killed her, Dad? You said she died having me."

"But if...if... he hadn't tried to escape, she wouldn't have been wounded, she would have been alright... she would have... she could have..."

"So this is my fault, Hawkeye?" Leroy asked, quietly.

"It might as well be," Jackory said wrathfully.

"Then taking me away from my wife and my sons, that will make it even? Will that make it even?"

Roy whirled on him. "What are you saying?" he cried. "Think about what you're saying!"

He pushed Roy and Riza out of the way gently and seized the barrel of the gun, placing it against his forehead. "If this will make it even, then pull the trigger, Jackory." Jackory's finger tightened on the trigger, and Leroy's eyes closed. Then the finger hesitated, and Jackory shook his head, letting his left arm drop, letting the gun fall from his hand and clatter on the floor.

"It isn't... what she would have wanted... a life doesn't cost a life."

Roy and Riza were hugging each other tightly, so tightly that Riza's fingers were leaving marks on Roy's skin, and she relaxed. Roy jolted, only then realizing that she had started to cry. He leaned his head against hers, pressing his cheek against her head. "It's okay, Riza, everything's okay..." Havoc sighed, relieved, from the doorway where he had been watching.

Jackory sat down on a chair, head in his hands. "I've been an idiot...a complete and total idiot all of these years... Mustang..." He looked up. "My apologies." Leroy nodded. "Apology accepted, Hawkeye," he murmured quietly. Now that it was all over, he felt quite faint. If Hawkeye had been enraged enough... he just might have pulled that trigger. He was glad Ilia was there to steady him; he was going to get a beating once they were alone, he just knew it. She wouldn't leave him alone until he was bruised on every inch of his body, not after a crazy stunt like that. His wife might be quiet, but when she was angry... it didn't bear thinking about.

Jackory got up and Riza followed him into his room, sitting on his bed and looking up at him. "Why did you do it?"

"I... just... I saw you and him... and you... you know I'm overprotective, Elizabeth," he smiled at her weakly; he was tired, and he looked older than Riza had ever seen him, older and more haggard. "I always tried... not to get upset over your mother in front of you, I didn't want you to get upset, be afraid... but I guess... I needed someone to confess to. I just exploded. I'm sorry, Elizabeth..."

"You could have told me."

He looked up and into her eyes.

"I'm not a little child anymore, you could have told me."

He nodded slowly. "Yes... I should have, but by that time, by the time you deserved to know it hurt too much to tell."

"So will you tell me now?"

Roy stepped in and sat next to Riza. "So will you tell us now? I think I deserve to know as well."

"Yes... I might as well, since Elizabeth is adamant on you." He sighed heavily, fingers rubbing his temples.

"Where to begin... Ah... I know. I grew up in North City, and that's where I met your mother. I was a sharpshooter, I had a regular job with the military up north, and so did she. She was also a gifted marksman and she and I hit off right away. We started out as friends, or rather, an officer and his subordinate, much like you two. Our relationship was slow, but we got to know each other very well; we were sent on missions together because of our compatibility, usually search and rescue.

"That's also where I met your father, Mustang. He and I were... never close, but never at each others throats either; mutual rivals, I suppose. He was the military's best alchemist, I was the military's best sharpshooter, we were constantly at odds and soldiers liked to egg on our conflicts, which were few and far between, but they were there all the same.

"There was just one thing; he was extremely overprotective of his wife, your mother, his girlfriend at the time. They would also go on mission together, but oftentimes he would end conflicts before they were started; he was rash and bold, but when he was accompanied by your mother, he did not want to run any kind of risk.

"On one mission, your mother was captured by Eastern Rebels, and your father was furious. He requested to be the one to search, rescue, and destroy opposition if necessary, but Angela, Riza's mother, and I, were deployed at the same time. Neither party was told that the other would be on the same trail. In the end, it was I who found her first, but then... I remember nothing except a gunshot and a terrible pain in my hand, and when I looked up... he was standing there, his firing arm was by his side and his face was sheet white.

"I woke up in the infirmary some time later, and they told me that my hand was lame, it was beyond repair. My life in the military was over, they discharged me soon after and your father was court martialed, but deemed accidental. It was then that I started to train with my left, in the hopes that maybe they'd let me back if I could fire steadily in one hand, but it was futile. Sometime in that time period I proposed to Angela, and she became pregnant with Elizabeth.

"She was... abducted near the end of her final month." Riza's brow furrowed, her face wore an expression of confusion. "But then how-" Jackory held up his left hand.

"Mustang took it upon himself to look for her; now I suspect that he was feeling guilty for what he had done to my hand, and having a four year old son of his own..." he looked at Roy, and Roy remembered the lengthy mission his father had left on, if only briefly, and how, when he'd returned, he'd sunk into a chair, his face in his hands. When young Roy had asked him if the mission had been successful, he groaned that it had been a success, but it might as well have been a failure. Roy had not understood at the time.

"He brought Angela back, but in escaping she was terribly wounded, both of them were. He sank onto the doorstep, left her there, and staggered away to get help for himself before he passed out. You were born then, and she died, naming you Elizabeth. From all her wounds and then the added pain of childbirth... she couldn't take it, and she died."

"So that was it. You thought that if my father had left her there for a while longer, maybe she wouldn't have died after Riza was born..." a horrible thought popped into his head. "But if things had gone badly, and Riza was killed... I might not... she might not be... I might not have you here now..." he whispered, looking at her. She shivered.

"I thought I had convinced myself beforehand that Mustang had helped me, that he had done all he could. I suppose... that I did not want to believe that. But it's over now. Our differences have been set aside; we may never be close friends, but we still have the chance to be just... friends."

Roy and Riza sighed in relief, and Leroy stuck his head into the room. "That doesn't mean you two will be sharing a room anytime soon, though." Jackory smiled. "I'll second that one, now go on, off to your rooms."

Roy grumbled, hands in his pockets. "I'm twenty-nine years old! I'm not a child."

"Ah, but I'm forty-eight, and since I'm older and your father, I call the shots."

"No fair..."

"Have some kids and you can boss them around."

"You just want grandkids!" Roy howled at him. Leroy studied his fingernails.

"Well, we do need some heirs so the Mustang line can continue, don't we?"

"Gah! That's all you ever think about, grandkids, grandkids, grandkids! 'Roy, when will you have kids?', 'Come on, Roy, you're twenty-six, you need to have kids', 'Roy! You're twenty-nine! A few more years and it will be too late for kids!', or even, 'Hurry up and have kids!'. At three o' clock in the morning! How many do you want me to have, seven?" Roy screamed at him.

"Maybe... awww... seven little grandchildren... what do you think, Ilia?" He looked to her for her opinion but found that he didn't need to. Her heart was already melting on the spot. "Awww... seven little grandkids...awwww..." she looked at Roy beseechingly and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I dunno... Go ask Riza, then maybe... why don't you just ask Loki to give you some grandkids? He'll have twelve of em for you!"

"Well... we need one to carry on the Mustang line, Heir to the Flame and all that... and only the firstborn can do thaaaat..."

Roy cursed. "I'll go ask Riza..." he muttered, stomping off to her room.


End file.
